The Battle of Narshe
by MyOtherSelfIsAGolfCart
Summary: A reimagining of a certain event in FFVI, with a few liberties taken. My first story. Reviews most appreciated!
1. Narshe Is Very Cold

_Apologia pro this here story:_ This is something of a re-imagining of, or expansion on, several events in FF3. It may seem that I've taken a great deal of liberty with what happens (and I have), but let me explain. Places and events in games are generally representations of what the game's story says should be. Thus, grand capitals of mighty empires usually have a diameter of a quarter mile and a population of thirty. From this, we do not assume that the empire is composed of particularly infecund and unambitious people, but rather we accept this as an in-game representation of a much larger fictional city.

Likewise, in FF3 or 6 or what have you, when you complete all the branch-quests and meet together back at Narshe, the black-screen text says "a decisive battle is about to take place." It involves seven (7) Returners. Well, I decided to expand this into a larger battle. Coincidentally, this is what's described below. Some of the dialog is based on a translation of the Japanese version, or on stuff I made up. Also, despite several years of protacted legal wrangling, I do not own anything relating to FF3, aside from a dusty old cartridge. Now, I present to you the first of several chapters.

* * *

In the cold north sat the independent city-state of Narshe, a large mining community stretched thin across several miles of mountainside. Narshe had long relied on its isolated position in desolate terrain to protect it and its considerable resources from the warring common in the warmer and more hospitable southern realms, but a recent nighttime raid by a mere three Imperial soldiers in Magitek armor had cut a swath through Narshe's proud militia and had so upset the town's faith in its own defense that the city's leaders were considering the unprecedented prospect of a military alliance with the Empire's enemies.

Such agreements and treaties ran counter to long-standing traditions of independence and self-reliance that the citizens of Narshe held as essential to their city's culture. Furthermore, war could disrupt the trade with other lands that Narshe relied on for food. As such, the proposals put forward by the Returners (the only of the two sides to show interest in Narshe's welfare) had been met with skepticism and a good deal of rationalization and denial for almost a week. Discontent and fear had mounted in the city, however, and Narshe's leaders had finally agreed to a meeting

In the city Elder's house, which also served as a point of assembly, sat the Elder and some of the city's most influential citizens. Before them sat the charismatic, title-less leader of the Returner rebellion, Banon, accompanied by the Returners' chief and only local supporter of note, the wealthy but xenophilic Arvis Tilwer, and the young and somewhat lascivious King of Figaro, Edgar Roni. Behind them, staring pensively out of a window, stood Terra, the recently freed Imperial slave and amnesiac.

The town's Elder sat at the middle of a large table, with the heads of the ore and coal mining guilds on his right. To his left were the town militia's marshal and the heads of the merchants' and tradesmen's guilds. Rather than feeling grateful for the Returners' proffered assistance in the face of Imperial aggression, most of the officials seemed to resent the rebels as the most visible face of the dilemma facing Narshe. The presence of the woman who had effortlessly penetrated Narshes' defenses did not endear the Returners to them either, despite whatever claims of innocence were put forward on her behalf.

"-and Figaro's southern territories fell with hardly a fight, despite all its technology and its professional army!" the ore miners' leader nearly yelled. Edgar, the King of Figaro, struggled to maintain his composure. The miner had made the same point at the beginning of the meeting hours ago, and had kept returning to it, no matter how often Edgar pointed out that South Figaro had fallen through treachery, and that its army and technology were still quite effective. He rubbed his temples.

"As I have said before, much of that army escaped through the passes to the Figaran desert and is safe. We can train and better equip your militia so that this-" Edgar gestured out the window, where evidence of the raid more than a three weeks ago was still visible "-will not happen again."

Banon nodded. "And with Narshe as a base, we can reform several of our Returner bands that were scattered when the Empire attacked." The Elder waved everyone silent.

"We have heard all this, and I understand your position," he said, "but how can you expect us to encourage further bloodshed?"

Arvis made to reassure the Elder. "We do not ask that, merely-"

The Elder cut him off. "Much the same."

Banon laughed grimly and shook his head.

"You know, he _is_ right, Arvis..."

The Elder and Arvis both looked at him, Arvis with a shocked expression.

"It is _our_ blood being shed!" Banon stood and looked down at the Elder, who met his gaze impassively.

"We have men smuggling weapons and food past the blockade to Doma, and privateers attacking Imperial supply ships. We have people inside South Figaro organizing resistance there, and we've had no word from one of our best men in over a week. Our men and women on the Imperial continent die daily as saboteurs and spies. You don't want to encourage further bloodshed? The Empire needs no encouragement!"

He gestured at Terra.

"The Emperor did not ask this woman if she would fight for him. He forced her. He did not ask the people of Albrook to join the Empire. He sent in his armies. When Tzen and Maranda objected, he attacked them as well. He sacked those cities and slaughtered their leaders. And for trading with those lands during the war, the Emperor occupied all the remaining towns on the continent, despite their neutrality. Gestahl does not care about Narshe's freedom, or even about its metals or fuel. He will burn Narshe to the ground if he thinks there is a risk that you will not cooperate. The Empire will come for the Esper, and, even should you hand it over, and the Emperor, in a sudden fit of generosity, leaves you alone, Narshe will not be safe once he has accomplished his goal - the full resurrection of Magic."

The Elder's eyes widened, and the councilmen whispered to one another.

"The War of Magic..." sighed the Elder.

Banon gestured for the eager-to-speak Arvis to let the townsmen reflect. A silence stretched, until a guard opened the door.

"Elders, King Edgar's brother is here with..."

"Sabin!" exclaimed Terra and Edgar simultaneously. They both went to greet Sabin as he walked into the room, followed by a dark-haired easterner and an unkempt little boy. Terra, who had less faith in Sabin's natural durability, almost ran to embrace him. At the table, Banon watched the surprised faces of the town council with a smile, as they watched the "Imperial witch" they still distrusted act like a normal person.

"Sabin, we were worried..."said Terra.

"Terra, Edgar...surely you didn't think that my life would be in danger from a mere octopus?...or the empire, or a phantom train, or..." He grinned at their inquiring looks.

Edgar gave his brother a hug. "You can tell us about your journey later. I was only afraid you'd make me look bad by saving Figaro without me."

Sabin laughed. "I thought we were relying on Locke to single-handedly drive out the Empire. Has he gotten back yet?"

Terra shook her head. "No. He got several messages out of the city, but he's sent nothing for over a week."

Edgar rested a hand on her shoulder. "I've known Locke long enough to know he'll be fine. I'm sure he'll manage to...treasure-hunt away in the middle of night." He stepped back and gestured at Sabin's company. "But who are these fine folks you've brought here?"

Cyan stepped forward and bowed slightly to the assembled group. "I am Cyan Garamonde, a knight of Doma, and retainer to its king."

Gau cut in front of Cyan and gave the Figaran king a resplendent curtsy worthy of the finest young ladies. "Gau, your majesty!"

"And this...this young man is obviously named Gau." Edgar chuckled.

Banon cleared his throat and stood up. He walked over to Cyan and shook his hand. Cyan was somewhat taken aback by the relative lack of ceremony. "Sir Garamonde, I'm Banon. I'm glad to finally meet you in person. But does this mean that Doma is...?"

"Fallen to the Empire, aye. And not merely fallen, but slaughtered - her people poisoned by Kefka."

The Elder grimaced. "That's barbaric..."

Arvis and Banon both began talking.

"Narshe must enter the war...-"

"Elder..."

The Elder shook his head and cut them off.

"Doma was only destroyed because it cooperated with you! If we make that mistake too, then-"

He was interrupted by an exchange at the door. A man rushed in, followed by the Elder's guard and a woman wrapped in a white cloak.

"Elder, that's not true!"

* * *

There were two theories as to the origin of Narshe's name. The first, rather dull, theory held that it took its name from a tribe of people that lived in the area before the War of the Magi. The second theory, both more interesting and less likely, was that the name derived from an old word for "very cold." Locke Cole, who disapproved of the city's isolationism, held the latter view, and was expounding on it and other peculiarities that he felt to be the direst flaws of the city. 

"But Narshe does help the Returners?" asked his companion, the erstwhile Imperial General Celes Chere, as the two of them walked through Narshe. She was wrapped up tightly with her cloak's hood covering much of her face, not for protection from the cold - it seemed to bother her no more than the searing heat of the desert further south had - but for anonymity.

"No, it's only a few people here that help us. All Narshe cares about is mining and trading. Most of the people here probably wouldn't know that the Empire is on an entirely different continent. Hell, most of them think the people in the valley to the south are complete foreigners. Narshes' founders came up here a long time ago, said, 'hey, it's really damn cold,' and decided to be miners and assholes." Locke chuckled and looked about the town. "They'll have no choice but to fight now, though. And, in fairness, the people _are_ nice, if you get to know them. And they _do_ make some damn fine schnapps..."

Celes "hmmed" noncommittally while staring at the snow drifts in alleys of the city remote from the steam engines' heat.

Locke chuckled. "I still can't believe you'd never heard of snow."

"It never snowed in Vector. The lands north of there are all even warmer, and I've never been south of Albrook in the winter."

"But you'd never even _heard_-"

"No one ever told me about it," she said flatly.

Locke didn't press the issue; he had noticed that Celes didn't like to talk about her life with the Empire. In truth, he reflected, it didn't seem like she had had much of a life at all. They walked in silence the last the quarter mile to the Elder's house. As they turned climbed the long staircase leading up to it, Locke turned to Celes.

"This is it. Are you sure you want to come right out in the open? I can say my sources were anonymous."

Celes seemed annoyed. "Of course I do. I told you that already. I'm just wrapped up because I don't want to be attacked before we get there."

"Fair enough...ah, Albin!"

The guard at the door cracked a smile when he recognized Locke. "Locke, I told you I'd be made the Elder's guard. Where's my raise?"

"He's a contact of mine here," Locke said at Celes' inquiring look. Turning back to the expectant guard, he said "I'm afraid there's no time to talk. I have to see the Elder now."

"He's in a meeting with-"

Locke grinned. "Excellent. When I walk in, apologize for not being able to stop me..."

* * *

"Doma was only destroyed because it cooperated with you! If we make that mistake too, then-" 

"Elder, that's not true!" said Locke, with as dramatic a voice as he could muster, as he strode grandly into the room. He hesitated only a moment when he saw the company gathered there. The guard, Albin, rushed in after him, followed by Celes. The room fell silent and everyone turned to look at them. Locke was enjoying the moment.

"Elder, I'm sorry! He just rushed right past me and..."

Albin blushed and left at the Elder's harsh glare. The self-styled World's Greatest Adventurer was not well-liked by Narshe's leaders, due to his involvement in protecting Terra from their wrath after she was first freed from the Imperial slave-crown. Celes stopped behind Locke and gasped softly as she recognized Banon, Cyan and Edgar from description. She had expected to meet with some low level Returners and a few weathered old miners, not the leader of the movement, along with the king of Figaro and Doma's most famous knight. Looking at Cyan, her heart sank as she thought about the Elder's words as she entered . _Doma was only destroyed because it cooperated with you! _Kefka must have already poisoned them. It was too late to warn anyone.

The Returners in the room were thrilled to see that Locke had escaped South Figaro. Terra, still standing by the door, was overjoyed that both of the new friends she had been so worried about had ended up safe on the same day.

"Locke, you're back!" she said, embracing him. Stepping back, she looked at Celes with a strange expression of familiarity. Celes started as she recognized Terra for Kefka's enslaved Mage Knight.

Locke nodded to his friends and turned toward Narshe's councilmen.

"There's no time for debate, Elder. The Empire is preparing to attack Narshe as we speak. Hell, they could be marching on you right now!" The room sat in stunned silence, and Locke looked pleased with himself.

"Locke, how do you know that?" asked Banon after a moment.

"This is..." He looked back at Celes, who sighed and, though obviously on edge, nodded as she pulled the hood back from her face. "This is Celes Chere. She was an Imperial General." The room seemed even more stunned, and Locke looked even more pleased with himself. Cyan, suddenly, stood up and and put his hand to the pommel of his sword.

"I knew she looked familiar. Sir Gau, stand aside." He drew his sword, shoved Gau out of the way, and strode toward Celes, who felt suddenly too ashamed of herself, and of the totality of her past, to say anything.

"This is the woman who destroyed Maranda! A general of the same Empire that destroyed Doma!"

Locke stepped in front of him. "Wait! She's with _us_ now! She's here to _help_ us!"

"A notion I find exceedingly unlikely. Aside!" Locke drew his dagger in answer.

"I gave my word I would protect her," Locke said in a low voice. "I will not back down."

Edgar sighed as he saw his friend dredging up unpleasant memories. "Locke..."

Terra said sadly, "I was also an Imperial soldier..."

Cyan spun around to stare at her incredulously. "WHAT? Sir Sabin, are you Returners or just disgruntled Imperials?"

Edgar quickly stood and stepped between Cyan and Terra. "Sir Garamonde, just because the Empire is evil doesn't mean every Imperial is!"

Cyan shook his head and pointed his sword at Celes. "Perhaps...but this one is! She has undoubtedly been attached to this gullible fool to spy on us!"

"You idiot! Why the hell would they send a _general_ as a spy!"

Celes put her hand on Locke's dagger-arm. "Locke, don't..."

It would have been a comical sight to a disinterested observer. Though Cyan was not much taller than Locke, he and his sword seemed to tower over the defiant adventure and his dagger. Sabin stepped forward. "This is not the best way to do this..."

Before the situation could develop further, the door was thrown open yet again and a breathless guard ran into the room.

"Sir!...The Empire...is coming this way!"

The Elder stood. "What? How many men?"

"Thousands!"

Narshe's councilmen were incredulous. "How did they move thousands of men without being spotted-" began the merchant, who was cut off by the Marshal.

The Elder frowned as the scout went on with his report. "It looks like war is unavoidable now." Edgar again fought to keep his annoyance in check. _It's been unavoidable for weeks. _

"They're coming for the Esper," stated Banon.

The Elder nodded. "We've moved it out of the mines, onto a large hill outside of the city."

Narshe's marshal sat dispiritedly "But we just don't have the men to fight. From the report, there must be ten thousand of them." Banon smiled slyly at the man.

"We can help somewhat. You probably haven't seen them, but I told my men-" He was cut off as Cyan coughed loudly and gestured with his head at Celes, still standing behind Locke. The town council and Banon looked over with expressions ranging from guarded suspicion to plain hostility. Locke bristled, and Edgar felt concerned for his friend. They had known each other before Locke had joined the Returners and convinced Edgar to do the same, and it seemed he was still troubled by his past.

The abashed look on on Celes' face suddenly gave way to one of determination, and she walked to the table and looked from person to person as she spoke. "Actually, Kefka - and it will be Kefka - probably has a little less than eight thousand men. I know because I-" she shivered slightly at the thought - "because I helped him with the planning." The whole room was silent for a moment. Banon stared at her thoughtfully, then nodded.

"Go on."

* * *

"General Palazzo! The last of our men are through the gap." Kefka turned on his chocobo and smiled. 

"Excellent." He had managed to move an entire army past Figaro and through the valley north of it without Narshe detecting anything! Of course, it had been his own brilliant idea to make an entire division out of the best riders in the Empire's western army, and requisition most of the chocobos in southern Figaro. A small diversionary attack against the remnants of Figaro's armies in the desert had been enough to draw their attention, and Kefka had managed to load all the Magitek armor he needed onto the rail lines running from Figaro to Narshe. A few trains to carry spare mounts, weapons, and the few infantrymen who weren't adequate riders were all he had needed. Each of the three nights, the army had enjoyed a delightful rest in one of the defenseless farming towns in the valley - the townsfolk, when at gunpoint, were both properly respectful and forthcoming with their food.

Kefka growled, and the soldier speaking to him blanched. The hardest part had been not razing every damn one of these traitorous, rebellious hamlets...but columns of smoke would have given them away. There had been the occasional scout to spot them - Narshe apparently had learned a lesson from that last little raid - much as there were those who tried to slip away at night, along with the ubiquitous damn Returner bands that infested this awful part of the world, but Kefka had been involved very personally in cutting those down before they could spread the word. No scout could outrun his magic, and only the vaguest rumors would reach Narshe ahead of his army. He had gone without sleep the entire journey, but he had never slept much anyway.

The narrow gap at the north end of the valley had been Kefka's one concern, but his caution had been rewarded, and no resistance had greeted them. Now he could position his forces on the plains in front of Narshe and march on the city. They'd see him now that he deployed, but even these rubes would cause trouble if he rode into the city helter-skelter.

He turned to look at the soldier reporting to him and was delighted by the nervous expression on his face. "Set up our heavy infantry in the center and our shooters to their sides. Put the riders on our flanks. I want the Magitek armor in the very front. We will attack tomorrow morning. As soon as our Magitek armor is in range, have them use their fire beams on the town. Fire until no one fights back or they bring forth the Esper. And shoot whoever brings it, for good measure"

"But General, the civilians..."

Kefka sneered at the terrified soldier. Another one of Leo's little disciples... "Listen! If they're in the way, kill them! Kill them and apologize; I don't care! Just get me that Esper!" He would not take any chances. Few enough in the Empire knew about the failed raid on Narshe several weeks ago, but only he, the Emperor, that idiot Leo and that traitorous whore Celes - only two people knew that no one really knew at all what had gone wrong. The two men he had sent had disappeared, and then Kefka's own weapon had turned up in Figaro without her slave crown.

Kefka looked to the horizon, at the smoke rising from Narshe's steam engines and smelting plants, and he laughed quietly to himself. Soon, there would be _much_ more smoke...


	2. A Return To Form

_Just-In-Case Note: Remember the intro to the game? It does say they use gunpowder.  
_

* * *

Terra was impressed at Celes' sudden transformation. She had not even attempted to defend herself from Cyan, and yet now, as she rattled off military details to Banon and to Narshes' elders, she became more and more animated. Something about Celes seemed familiar to Terra, but she couldn't place it. She could also tell, somehow, that the woman could use magic as she could. The fugitive general seemed to avoid making eye contact with her. _An Imperial General and a magic user...Doe she know what the Empire did to me? Does she know about my past?_ She was impressed by Locke as well. It was clear he hated the Empire - his actions said it, and on the rare occasions when he spoke about it directly, he had been rather blunt - but he had gone out of his way twice now to help former Imperial soldiers. Why did he hate the Empire so? Perhaps Edgar could tell her; she had never thought to any of her new friends about any of the others. Edgar...Maybe Locke really was like Edgar? Perhaps he had helped her and Celes because they were women? Maybe it was Sabin she should ask. She lost herself in her thoughts, something she did frequently, since the freedom to think had been returned to her. 

Presently Celes finished her brief outline of the resources the Empire was likely bringing to bear on Narshe. The previous sly smile returned to Banon's face. "Well, as I was saying earlier, before we fled from the Empire, I gave orders for my best militia to meet here. You probably haven't seen them, but by last count we have around seven hundred within three hours of here."

Narshe's Marshal nodded, too thankful for the added manpower to feel annoyed at the subterfuge. "We have around two thousand militiamen fit enough to fight."

Celes was surprised. "Only two thousand? But Narshe is the largest city for hundreds of miles! It may be diffuse, but there are at least a quarter of a million people within fifty miles of this house!"

"General...we are remote, and had no enemies before the Empire, aside from bandits. We had no need of a large army."

Celes looked stunned and thoughtful as Edgar stepped up to the table. "Does Narshe have any war machinery or siege engines? I would be happy to see to them."

The Marshal stood up and walked to the window. He seemed agitated. "Yes, we have machinery, and we have a good supply of firearms and ammunition, and I certainly welcome what help the Returners can provide. But what can any of this avail us against the Empire's Magitek? Two hundred of our best men rallied before the mines to stop the-" he glanced at Terra, as did several other Narshe officials "-the Empire, but they were cut down like rabbits, by only three people!"

This snapped Celes out of her reverie. "Yes, Magitek overwhelmed you, because you didn't know how to fight it. I can tell you how."

* * *

Banon had a green banner flown over Narshe's tallest buildings - a prearranged signal to Returner observers watching the city that Narshe had finally aligned itself with them. The city Elder ordered the evacuation of much of the outlying parts of the city, while the Marshal set to sound muster. The heads of the militia battalions went with the Returners to view the slope that led to the Esper. 

Before he headed to see to Narshe's war engines, Edgar, after deliberation, decided to speak to Celes, for Locke's sake. She seemed sincere enough to Edgar in her conversion. He could be...obsessive about protecting people, and an Imperial general with a notorious reputation was the last person Locke needed to obsess about. And, in fairness to the lovely Celes, Edgar thought with a smile, she shouldn't mistake Locke's obsession for something else. He found her walking alone, deep in thought.

"General Chere!" She turned to look at him. "I never had the honor of meeting in you person while our countries were allied." She fell into step with him and shook her head.

"It's just Celes now, and I _have_ no country," she said, her vehemence surprising Edgar.

"Yes, well..." He sighed. "Look, Locke has a... a complicated past. I wouldn't take this personally, but I doubt that he's really been charmed by you."

Celes eyed him icily. "I may no longer be a general, but I am still a soldier. I follow orders, not emotions."

"Your reputation is accurate. You really are heartless!" He walked away, back toward Narshe.

Behind them, Terra was walking dejectedly. Two hundred men, just before the mines! And how many had fought in Narshe itself? How many innocent people had she killed? Sabin caught up with her.

"Terra...what's wrong?"

"Nothing." She had no idea how to talk to someone else about her past. "It's...it's the Empire. Even with that woman's help, can we really hope to hold them off?"

Sabin nodded. "Ah, yes. Imperial invincibility. Imperial greatness. Terra, behind its banners and its armies, the Empire is made up of people. Evil in some cases, perhaps, and more than a little crazy, yes, but they are still just people. The Emperor may seem untouchable in his dominion, but he is still just a man, telling other men what to do, and only men obey him, not the world itself, whatever his magical aspirations. And you yourself prove that even those he tries hardest to control and enslave can slip away from him." The thought did not visibly comfort her.

Sabin chuckled, and Terra looked up at him curiously. "Maybe you don't believe me? Let me demonstrate. Consider my brother. Could one find a nobler and more regal man anywhere on this earth?" Terra smiled slightly. "And yet he is as subject to the same laws of the world - hunger, heat, rejection by women like General Chere there-" Terra laughed despite herself, as she saw Edgar walking away from Celes with an unhappy expression- "as any other man. His worldy power cannot even suffice to, say, stop an object in motion. Observe."

With that, he reached down into a snow drift and fashioned the snow into a ball, which he threw at the retreating Figaran king. It hit him in the back of the head, causing him to yelp in surprise, spin around and curse. Terra laughed aloud. From somewhere behind her she could hear Gau cackle. Sabin grinned. "I stand corrected. His royal head halted that snowball admirably. Now, if you will excuse me, I feel that our chastised royalty may need assistance in town." He patted her on the shoulder and went after his brother.

Terra smiled as he walked off, but gradually returned to her thoughts as she walked along. How easily those two got along with each other, even after so many years apart, she reflected. Did she have a family somewhere? Did someone, somewhere, think of her with love? After a moment Celes fell back and walked beside her. "So, you too have the gift of magic?" asked Celes. "Isn't it nice..."

Terra looked at Celes, hoping some spark of memory would present itself. "Can you use magic also? I thought I sensed something in you."

"Yes. When I was still a baby, I was infused with magic artificially, and raised to be a Mage Knight."

"Is that what happened to me? Do you know what they did to me?"

Celes shook her head. "I'm sorry, I don't know exactly. I had seen you before, but..." She wanted to go on, to say something to this woman in apology for the life taken from her, and for her part in it, but she couldn't think of anything to say, and Terra did not press the issue. They walked in silence for several moments.

"Celes...can people like us ever be loved?"

Celes stared at her in surprise and discomfort. "What are you talking about?" she said hastily, and hurried forward, in a brown study.

* * *

The chosen hill, located about a mile from the easternmost reaches of Narshe, met with the approval of those Returners with a military disposition. At its wide base it rose fairly sharply before shallowing out, and large, rocky debris was scattered across its face. It rounded out and was nearly level at the crest, except for a sharp rise where a jutting rock led steeply up to where the Esper had been placed. Behind and to the sides were other, more inaccessible foothills. The terrain in general appeared as if it would work to the Returners' advantage, slowing the unwieldy Magitek armor and offering cover for Narshe's gunmen. The Narshe militia, being relatively small and having ample supply of ingredients for gunpowder at hand, brandished firearms to a man. The Imperial army, hailing from the resource-poor southern continent, had focused most of its research and production on costly Magitek weaponry rather than on reliable and effective firearms. This, combined with a certain disregard for the life of the common soldier, led many Imperial tacticians to favor human waves supported by Magitek armor. 

Kefka Palazzo, being wilier and more flexible than most Imperial officers, did incorporate gunpowder into his strategy. His particular temperament, however, predisposed him to heavy use of Magitek, and he used his firearm troops merely to skirmish and discourage open maneuver against his flanks. His preference was to concentrate his armor and blast a hole in the enemy line, which he would then attack with sword-armed heavy infantry while the armor, split into two groups, attacked to either side of the gap. In more recent times, much to the distress of those he commanded, he was more and more prone to less coordinated maneuvers, and he seemed to take a perverse pleasure in watching massive but unfocused attacks carried out by his entire front line. Thus far, he had reserved such spectacles for weakened and disorganized enemies, but his carelessness and the resultant casualties had increased each time.

These trends were well known to Celes Chere, and she hoped to be able to use both the terrain and Kefka's own foibles against the Empire, as she explained to the others. Putting aside the uncomfortable notions she had been force to consider during the walk to the hill, she took stock of the battlefield. Standing near the top of the hill, she turned and spoke to the assembled Returners and Narshe militia leaders. "A weakness of older Magitek armor is its limited vertical flexibility, something that was not considered very important when the armor was first developed. If you are positioned here-" she gestured to a spot near the crest of the hill- "armor climbing the hill will not be able to bring its Magitek to bear until around here." She indicated a spot some two hundred yards away.

Cyan, who approved of her advice but still doubted her interest in and loyalty to the Returner cause, spoke up. "The armor we faced in Doma was able to fire at much greater angles."

She nodded. "That was a new model. Some was also being sent to the western army, but..._subversive elements_-" she raised an eyebrow and glanced at Locke- "managed to sabotage the ship it was on as it sat in port in South Figaro."

"But with the strategy you've outlined, we would have no men left to defend Narshe itself," pointed out a Narshe corporal.

"That's unavoidable. We have to draw Kefka out here. If there's fighting in the city-"

Banon interrupted her. "Then the Empire will see the city destroyed," he said, with a hint of bitterness in his voice. Celes' new-found resolve seemed to ebb somewhat. He went on. "Not even Kefka will send his troops in to sack a city the size of Narshe if he knows an army exists outside of it." He looked at Celes without visible emotion. "The Empire learned this the hard way in Maranda."

* * *

Narshe mustered around two and a half thousand competent militiamen for battle, as well as almost a thousand other troops; who, deemed unsuitable for front line combat by reason of injury or age or inexperience, were equipped with what weapons remained and left to guard the inner city, should the Empire decide to send men to harass its civilians in an attempt to drive the main army to some act of desperation. 

Some eight hundred Returners had gathered by the time Kefka's army neared the hill that evening. Of those, around five hundred were Banon's best fighters; veterans from the occupied lands in the southern continent who had fought against the Empire, first for their own countries and kings, and then for the Returners. They assembled, all dressed in the brown uniform and light armor the Returners favored. It was simply a variation on common southern military wear, from which style even the Empire's heavier infantry armor was ultimately derived.

The remaining three hundred Returners were irregular fighters, and, together with those from Narshe and the surrounding area who were skilled in hunting and tracking, they were to serve as something of a bait, to assure that Kefka focused his attention away from the city from the very beginning, and were also to harass and whittle away at the Imperials as they approached Narshe's army.

The mood in Narshe itself was fatalistic but defiant. Rumors of Imperial expansion had circulated even before the unsuccessful nighttime raid three and a half weeks ago, but the sudden attack and the fall of South Figaro had brought quite close to home what had seemed only the affair of distant and strange lands. Though few in Narshe had stated openly that war was inevitable, a collective dark brooding had long anticipated the conflict.

Those on the outskirts of the city moved inward, and the children, elderly and infirm were relocated to the shelter of old mine tunnels that had in the past been prepared against such an occasion. The remaining citizens - men and women both, much to the concern of some of Narshe's more traditional elements - prepared to fight any fires that might start, and many of those from the inner city stood guard over their homes holding their rusted swords and old, crude personal firearms.

Though most had felt a sense of impending trouble in the three weeks since the attack, the city was still shocked by the announcement that war had so suddenly come to Narshe, that the Empire's army was less than a day away. All the city felt a sudden and intense antipathy toward Vector. They cared little for the troubles of the more southern realms, but had not Narshe made clear its desire for peace? Its desire to simply be left alone, and its willingness to cooperate with whomever held power to the south? And yet, rather than attempt to negotiate, the Emperor had simply attacked; first in small measure, and now with an entire army.

The fall of southern Figaro through treachery had made a great impression on the city's leaders, and thus, in certain overestimation of the Empire's espionage capabilities, they were tight-lipped about military detail. As a result, more rumor spread throughout town. Many had seen the returners marching east of town, and it was said that a Returner army had come to help them fight Kefka. First some, than many claimed to have seen the Imperial general Celes Chere walking cloaked through the city, accompanied by some disreputable lout. Clearly, they said, the Empire had already infiltrated the city. Even wilder were the claims that this scoundrel was, in fact, the moderately well-known Locke Cole, who was certainly working for the Returners and had already captured the General, and that the battle was as good as won.

Still, by nightfall both the Empire's army and Narshe's own were visible from town as they made camp, and the city fell into a light, uneasy sleep to distant yelling and isolated gunfire.


End file.
